


That which once was, is lost.

by spookyroan



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Consensual Sex, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Non-Graphic Sex, just two men seeking comfort in each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23302726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyroan/pseuds/spookyroan
Summary: Thranduil is visiting Rivendell post-Return of the King and is haunted by his past. Elrond is feeling similarly.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf, Elrond Peredhel/Thranduil
Kudos: 79





	That which once was, is lost.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my roommate, Nico. This short is a one-shot and most likely will not be continued. I just wanted to prove these two cranky men could show some affection. {All translations are in the end notes.}
> 
> All characters and context belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. All I claim some semblance of ownership to is their affection for one another. This is as close to in-character that can be achieved with what content we get in The Hobbit novel and films.

Evenings in Rivendell were tranquil, akin to water gently rushing down stream. The world had not known such equanimity. The maternal gaze of the moon caressing the tree’s leaves, blue against the land of elves. The waterfalls lulling those who are still awake into sleep, a gentle kind of sleep. The kind that humans wish they could achieve on their own, however, humans like Aragorn, could never truly achieve that sleep without those tranquil falls and the smell of laurel and lavender. Everything in Rivendell smelled of lavender and laurel, natural smells that brought on a sense of balance: ease that the outside world had wished to achieve. But the world of men was not so fortunate. 

Tonight, Rivendell smelled different. No one noticed, save for the lord of this land. Lord Elrond had been entertaining King Thranduil this evening, hoping to find comfort in their relationship as lords of the elven clans. They had not seen each other in many centuries, as much as Elrond had hoped to see his Mirkwood counterpart sooner. But the fortunes of men had not been kind to the lands of elves. Mirkwood had felt a deep sickness centuries before, noting the expedition that Thorin Oakenshield had embarked on to reclaim that which had been his by birth. Rivendell had been present for both Thorin’s and Frodo’s journey. Wrought by the woes of the world, included by necessity as a safe haven. Lord Elrond had always offered Rivendell as such to Gandalf the Grey, for they were the oldest of friends. He’d learned quickly that do to so meant relinquishing his right to privacy and peace. Rivendell endured, and tranquility was preserved. 

He found himself following the unfamiliar smell to the pavilion young elves used to court their loves. The light of the moon shone against the water, a peaceful darkness lapping against the bank of the earth. That is where Lord Elrond of  _ Imladris _ met with King Thranduil of  _ Eryn Lasgalen, _ their titles forgotten in the darkness. 

“You forsake sleep to wander the woods, my friend.” Elrond began, taking note of Thranduil’s freely flowing hair held in place by his crown. So long had this crown been in retreat, wilting as a result of the sickness of fear. He had forgotten what rowans had been in bloom, a reminder of the peace that Middle Earth now experienced with the loss of Sauron. 

“You keep a beautiful home, Elrond.” The fair elf replied; “I cannot help seeing it as a reflection of her lord.” 

_ Her _ . Thranduil was the fairest of his kin, his beauty only matched in his son. Whom, at this moment shared a bed with the King of Gondor. Thranduil had embraced his beauty, manipulating the affections of women to his favor.  _ Imladris _ had been a beautiful woman in his eyes, to be cherished. A reflection of the love Elrond bore for his late wife, long forgotten. Her memory lost to time, like so many of his kin lost to the woes of the world. So much pain contained in the wounds of time. 

Elrond’s lips curled into a gentle smile, hidden by the shadows cast against his harsh features. “I would not have it any other way, nin mellon.” 

Thranduil turned to face Elrond, exposing his expressions to his companion. “It has been long since I’ve seen true beauty. The waters of Mirkwood have recently been purified, the long endured fear relieved.” 

“You are not at fault.” Elrond said, stepping closer to Thranduil. 

“The passage of time would tell you otherwise, my friend.” 

The phrase cut deeper in the tongue of man, belittled and harsh. The syllables emphasizing the pain that would be masked by the slurs of their native tongue, elegantly concealing his emotions. Elrond did not know how to comfort his friend without revealing his true intentions. The aching of the truth reminding this lord of his conflicted affections. For his wife, the most affectionate creature he had beheld, had been taken from him long ago. Leaving him to wander his immortal life in many ways alone. He had chosen to forsake remarriage, lest it harm his children’s memory of their mother. Dalliances were no more inviting; for Elrond was a sentimental man. He did not embark on the pleasures of the flesh idly. 

Thranduil could feel Elrond’s conflict, seeing its confirmation in his features. He beheld a man without love, with no hope of love returning. Not in this life. Much like himself. He who poured every ounce of affection into his son, begging time to spare him of parting with this memory of his own wife. Time was not kind, and his son embarked to right the wrongs of man. 

“ _Whui ceri- mín dab- ourselves na bask in i nienor -o i past?”_ Thranduil inquired, placing a hand upon his friend’s shoulder. “I fear we have wasted immortality remembering what we have done wrong.” 

Elrond did not know what to make of Thranduil’s words, his speech melding with that of man and that of his kin. His language mirroring the frailty of his emotions, tainted by mortal intentions. Thranduil’s touch was foreign to him, having been reserved for lovers under elvish customs. He stepped closer to Thranduil, closing more of the space between them.

He took this time to notice Thranduil, taking in the way his hair fell on his shoulders and the curl of his lips. His soft eyes questioning. “ _ Relieve nin -o hi naeg _ ,  _ nin mellon _ .”

Their lips met hesitantly, having abstained from these feelings for so long. Thranduil had slid his hand up from Elrond’s shoulder to caress his jaw, pushing Elrond’s face up to meet his lips. They were not hungry, they were not eager. They had eternity, the rest of their immortal lives to remember this night. To remember the way Thranduil’s hair shown blue under the moon, the darkness of Elrond’s eyes watching his companion as he shed himself of his robes. His gaze following Thranduil’s every movement, relishing the fairness of his skin as he sunk into the cool water they had met beside. Every inch an invitation: the way the small of his back curved into his rear, his shoulders broad and strong, his stark jawline as he turned his head to watch Elrond’s adoring gaze. He sunk into the water, his hair pooling around him. Elrond stripped himself of his silk robes to reciprocate Thranduil’s exhibition. His hands were slow, methodical in the way that they pulled the silk away from his ivory skin. His dark hair falling against his skin, bare and vulnerable to Thranduil’s prying eyes. 

He stepped into the dark pool and sunk into the water beside Thranduil, who pulled Elrond into a warm embrace. They were gentle with each other, aware of the wounds love had brought them. They knew that to hungrily savor the other’s skin and consume their mutual lust would do little to mend their lonely hearts. 

“I cannot put into words the beauty I now behold.” Elrond whispered in a low, adoring voice. His tone was void of the harshness reserved for the light of the sun, where authority is favored over affection. Thranduil melted into Elrond’s lips, allowing Elrond to taste his flesh and memorize his scent. He could not forget this: a strong king undone by his touch, reduced to what they had always been and no more elevated by arbitrary power bestowed by the Valinor. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - 

They held each other for a few moments, relishing in the minglings of laurel and roses, lavender and rowans. Their lips explored their exposed skin, long withheld by the demands of modesty. For elves were, above all else, modest. Neither of them breaching the barriers the other had placed without the consent of the other. The dark haired man let himself pull Thranduil up, placing him onto the ledge of the pool. 

“ _ Ceri- cin anír- nin míl _ ?” Elrond had to ask, he needed to hear confirmation from Thranduil’s lips. The need for Thranduil’s deep, commanding voice to give him permission to touch him and savor him…

The fair haired elf brought a hand up to touch Elrond’s cheek, his lips, his jaw. He wanted to touch the elf before him, revered for his control. He understood why Elrond needed him to confirm their intention, to do so was dignified. “ _ Cin are all im anír-, nin emel. _ ”

Elrond pressed another adoring kiss to Thranduil’s lips, lingering as he pushed Thranduil’s legs apart. He brought himself between them, Thranduil instinctively wrapped himself around Elrond’s thin figure. He could feel their mutual arousal pressing against his stomach, he could not stifle the gasp that escaped his lips at the contact. Elrond smiled against his lips before pulling away to turn his attention to preparing Thranduil for what they both wanted.

The gasps of pure pleasure that fled from Thranduil served as prayers to Elrond, worthy of repetition. He adored hearing the authority in Thranduil’s voice evaporate, his body relaxing into the ministrations of Elrond’s hands. Thranduil relishing in the knowledge that he was the first and last, the only creature this dignified and composed elf would touch in this way. He savored the sweet, seductive nothings whispered in their native tongue. They elegantly found their way into Thranduil’s neck, rooting themselves into sanguine markings secret to themselves. Gasps became gentle cries for more, more heat, more touch, more Elrond. His head fell back onto the ground, his eyes watching the desperation in Elrond’s dark eyes. He knew what Elrond wanted, but would not allow himself to take. Elrond’s attention was not on his own arousal, insead placed into every thrust, his fingers pressing, spreading, coaxing. He wanted to savor the way Thranduil was undone, that the source of this forgotten pleasure was himself. 

“ _ Cin are too patient, nin mel.” _ Thranduil gasped between deep, luxurious thrusts. He would lose himself to Elrond at any moment. 

The dark haired elf, satisfied in his ministrations, replaced his fingers with his arousal. He pressed gently, carefully into Thranduil. Thranduil, who upon this contact lunged forward to cling to Elrond. Elrond gasped into Thranduil’s hair, noting how well the other elf took him in. He wanted to let himself be overtaken by his carnal lust, his need to take pleasure in Thranduil’s cries for more. He wanted to feel Thranduil’s nails carving memories into his shoulders, the way that this elf would thrust his hips into Elrond attempting to deepen the connection. He wanted to be rough, primal, unforgiving. 

However, Elrond knew he could not be that. The way their bodies felt together, finally joined in the most intimate of ways, was enough. He needed to remember their unified scent, the way Thranduil’s hair looked splayed against the darkness of the pool, his lips falling open to release the pleasure he felt into the open air, the moonlight against bare skin, the soft breeze against his bare back, the movement of water giving way to his every thrust. He wanted to remember everything, every detail of this moment. This single, solitary moment in which there were no worries of rings, doom, and damnation. He had not thought about his children sailing to the Grey Havens. He had not remembered that he was laid bare, coaxing an orgasm from the king of another realm. He had not cared in the least that with Thranduil’s rising pleasure, he had grown unable to withhold his cries for Elrond, only Elrond, always Elrond. Elrond, who the world had deemed unworthy of this pleasure, was now the force driving pleasure to Thranduil. 

Thranduil could feel himself nearing a climax, having given up holding himself back. He had wanted to savor the visage of Elrond filling him to the hilt, placing reassuring kisses to his shoulders. He had wanted so desperately to make this moment last, where the moonlight was the only witness to their indulgence. He wanted to ride this moment out as long as he could because he did not know if a moment such as this would ever come again. He did not know if Elrond would still want him in the morning; as so many have, he was afraid Elrond would leave him. 

It was in this moment, just before their shared climax, that Elrond reached for Thranduil and pushed a strand of hair away from his cheeks. He whispered in a voice so sweet, coated in the adoration cultivated by the centuries: “ _ Cin are i beautui -o a lifetime, nin mel. Im will never gar- another hi i im gar- cin.” _

Thranduil’s eyes grew heavy, burdened with tears he had not let fall. He was overtaken by Elrond’s emotions and the strength of his own, Each thrust, each cry for more served as confirmation of this reality. He wanted nothing but to be filled with this newfound affection, pure and untainted by ages of sorrow. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

They came together shortly thereafter, clutching to each other as if by some divine curse they’d be left alone for having experienced such bliss. When they came down, unclenching their eyes, they were greeted with each other. Elrond pulled himself from Thranduil and took the other elf into his arms. He placed Thranduil under a nearby tree where their robes lay forgotten and draped them against his pale skin. He wanted to hide from the dawn that which he now deemed his, claimed. He wanted to keep this secret, the secret of his pleasure, from the world. Frightened that the world would take this from him as well. He laid beside the fair haired elf, covered only by their silk robes, and took Thranduil into his arms protectively. 

Thranduil, spent from their union, gently smiled to himself before returning the affections Elrond was now displaying. “ _ Cin are sui i gwilith im thui-, meld er. Im tur- ú- guin- ú- cín mel. _ ”

They held each other this way as they watched the dark rise beyond the mountain pass. A new dawn, a new destiny. Elrond whispered to Thranduil as he fell into a deep sleep, he whispered gentle nothings. Words he would only share with this elf, this beautiful creature. Words he would continue to whisper for an eternity. For they had proven themselves beyond time, and time would no longer haunt them with the ghosts of the past. 

**Author's Note:**

> Here are translations:  
> \- “Whui ceri- mín dab- ourselves na bask in i nienor -o i past?”: “Why do we allow ourselves to bask in the sorrows of the past?”  
> \- “Relieve nin -o hi naeg, nin mellon.”: “Relieve me of this pain, my friend.”  
> \- “Ceri- cin anír- nin míl?”: “Do you want my affection?”  
> \- “Cin are all im anír-, nin emel.”: “You are all I want, my friend.”  
> \- “Cin are too patient, nin mel.”: “You are too patient, my love.”  
> \- “Cin are i beautui -o a lifetime, nin mel. Im will never gar- another hi i im gar- cin.”: “You are the beauty of a lifetime, my love. I will never have another now that I have you.”  
> \- “Cin are sui i gwilith im thui-, meld er. Im tur- ú- guin- ú- cín mel.”: “You are as the air I breathe, dear one. I cannot live without your love.”


End file.
